


Fuel to Fire

by Pixeled



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Longing, Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:27:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24067342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pixeled/pseuds/Pixeled
Summary: It was time to finally love for Reeve, and for Vincent to love again. And if Vincent told him to go far away, told him how was Reeve to say what he wanted when Vincent wanted none of it? He would ask: “Do you want me on your mind or do you want me to go far away?”
Relationships: Reeve Tuesti/Vincent Valentine
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	Fuel to Fire

**Author's Note:**

> To the song “Fuel to Fire” by Agnes Obel

When Reeve first saw Vincent through Cait’s eyes he was instantly obsessed. He had to make him his, but there was time enough for that. He still hadn’t revealed his true identity—perhaps out of shame. No, definitely out of shame. He felt the weight of it every night he went to bed in his Shinra apartment. Who was he pretending to be? A social justice warrior, or a hack? One minute he was in a meeting, the other he was fighting alongside Avalanche. He was leading a double life and it would have to end soon.

He thought of his mother, who begged him to stay by her side and the look of sadness in her eyes when he told her he was going to work with Shinra. Of course she gave him her blessing—he’d always wanted to do something grand, but it was half-hearted, and he hadn’t seen her since. He made justifications for it. He was too busy. He didn’t want her to see him this way. He didn’t want to see that sadness in her eyes. Still he missed her little garden, her funny little curtains she’d sewn, the strength she had to have to raise him alone. And he had abandoned her. He thought it was a worthy cause he was doing. He would change the world. What he was doing, he came to realize, was harming it. 

When he first made his appearance over a telecom, he’d looked straight into Vincent’s eyes. He had learned so much about him, but the man only knew of his secrecy. His obsession only grew.

It wasn’t until after the world was saved and Midgar was destroyed did he tearfully make his entrance. The city he had worked so hard to build, the people, his mother, all of that was gone. What hurt the most was that his mother had died and he’d never returned to her, never held her hand in her last moments like a son should have.

He stumbled into Vincent’s tent, heartbreak written all over his face. He didn’t know what he was doing, except that he needed some comfort, some human companionship. And while Vincent wasn’t totally human, he had loved him from the moment he saw him from afar.

Vincent had walls upon walls. When Reeve entered he moved away on the bed as much as he could, arms crossed. He studied Reeve, not sure what to make of him. 

“Just….don’t talk for a second,” Reeve whispered. “I need to say this. I could see everything through Cait’s eyes and you…you are so beautiful. So very beautiful….and strong…you survived so much.”

“I’m dead,” is Vincent said in a flat voice. 

Reeve shook his head emphatically. The towers Vincent built up, gone to be far away, Reeve would systematically unbuild. Reverse engineering perhaps, but it was important to him. Maybe more important than building Edge.

Vincent went away to Kalm, had smashed his PHS and thrown it in the town fountain, but Reeve had been tracking him.

He’d been busy building a whole new city, being commissioner, leading the World Regenesis Organization, but he promised himself he’d never abandon anyone again who he cared about. 

Reeve stepped out of the sleek black car he’d rented to come to Kalm. He’d worn his finest suit, his shiniest tie, his most innocuous but appealing cologne. He’d had a fresh haircut, a recent shave. And most importantly, he had a showy bouquet of roses, which made him feel silly, but to him, everything was about appearances. What he felt, that was all buried deep inside. But not now. His prize was right here in this town, in this unassuming small house.

See, the thing was, Reeve had had many lovers, but he’d never loved anyone. His work was his love. What he planned, what he envisioned—that was his one true love. Until he met Vincent Valentine.

If Vincent had truly died, would they lay him to rest, roses on parade? Would they speak pious words to cry into the ground underneath? No, he’d be buried in a pine box, somewhere outside Midgar. Not too far. Or perhaps in Nibelheim six feet below a sapling that would one day grow into a strong tree, many many years beyond his death. But Vincent wasn’t dead or alive. Though he’d spent thirty years in a coffin surrounded by bones of the dead and spiders spinning their webs endlessly, driven slowly mad by the passage of time he couldn’t tell, he was soft spoken, kind, beautiful, and deserved to truly live. Reeve would put fuel to the fire that was Vincent’s heart.

It was time to finally love for Reeve, and for Vincent to love again. And if Vincent told him to go far away, told him how was Reeve to say what he wanted when Vincent wanted none of it? He would ask: “Do you want me on your mind or do you want me to go far away?”

If the answer was to go away, he’d go to Junon for a bit, sing softly the song his mother used to sing him when he was little by the shore, stare into the ocean until the sun set, and then he’d quietly go back to Edge and do his duty, torn by the hours.

But inside, Reeve had wanted to go into town, into Vincent’s hideaway.

He knocked on the door.


End file.
